Muffet has Fast Food for the Finest Fine Dining Experience of her Life
by dionysianDaydream
Summary: Muffet is dreadfully hungry when Sonic and friends accidentally stumble into the pre-Frisk underground, and all hell breaks loose. Who will make it out of this spider's web alive? (Each chapter is but a single page in length to ensure non-calamitous consumption, but also as a personal challenge.) Please like & subscribe to my channel if you enjoy the video!
1. Caught in a Web and Smonk

Muffet the spider monster could endure extended periods of time without food, waiting for some hapless Migosp or uppity Loox to wander into one of the many webs she maintained at various clever and unexpected locations throughout the underground albeit she would rather not, if only it could be helped, let more than a week pass between two meals. Spider tea and spider donuts are nothing compared to a shriveled up husk or two for brunch, after all.

After almost a month she had begun to take it out on her spiderlings by way of passive aggressively uttered insults about their stature and inability to spin webs or hold down any decent paying job, at times threatening to use them to flavor her tea (although she would never really), to the extent that they spent all waking hours rustling up all that they could to try to quell her hunger, but no amount of dirt worms or naturally occurring sugar cubes were ever good enough. It had to be something _bigger_.

This went on until one day her next victim came like a blue blur; moving faster than any set of eight eyes could follow, but not fast enough to tear through one of her satellite webs that was stretched between two innocuous smooth rock formations next to a vein of water that once was quite popular among the lesser beings, until they became all too aware of the spider queen's vast nest of death that always loomed overhead.

Sonic the hedgehog, being new around those parts, must not have gotten the memo.

"What's this crazy spider web doing here?" The super fast hedgehog squirmed and twisted his body this way and that, but whenever it felt like he could almost pull an arm or leg away from the sticky web it would snap back, leaving him back at square one. "I can't move at all! Knuckles, help!"

The crimson Adobe after effect to Sonic's blue blur, Knuckles the Echidna, walked to the sandy shore of the underground river, apparently oblivious to Sonic's plight. Something else had caught his eye, in the light of the lantern he held in one gigantic gloved hand.

"Are those," the unfocused echidna gasped, kneeling down to collect the pieces of varying colored crystal that glimmered in the sand, "chaos emerald shards?"

"Quit playing around and get me out of this thing already!"

Knuckles retrieved a glass pipe held together with duct tape and a lighter from his knapsack, then with great urgency proceeded to pluck some of the shards from the sand and drop them into the pipe one by one, until it was a quarter full of the good stuff. Once satisfied with the amount, with Sonic writhing helplessly in midair behind him, Knuckles flicked the lighter until it produced a flame then held it with some space between the source of heat and the bottom of his trusty crack pipe, drawing the ensuing vapors waft into his nostrils with a medley of groans and coos to express his sheer glee.

Muffet's minions trickled down the web and managed to inject their fangs' worth of sedative venom into Sonic to lull him into a vulnerable state before Knuckles could so much as realize that the crystal shards he was smoking were not indeed broken pieces of a chaos emerald, but in fact regular crystallized grains of sand. While the hedgehog prey was in slumberland, the spiderlings found it much easier to carry him across the network of spider webs that all linked back to one parlor in particular – back to the Hotland home of their _mother_.

 _I can't let them do this_ , Sonic consciously thought within the liquid span between being awake and dreaming, feeling their busy little feet and the bristly hairs of their gross, miniscule, but also kind of cute baby arachnid bodies all over him. _I have to find Amy before it's too late!_


	2. Fuck Chilli Dogs and Fuck Amy

Sonic the hedgehog was creating multiple accounts to criticize negative reviews of Sonic Boom on GameFaqs with whilst working through a stack of chilli dogs when he got a phone call from Amy Rose whose number he had saved as 'Cray Bitch' in his contacts, and not without good reason.

"Don't act like I didn't see that Myspace post," he vented into the phone. "You know, from our date at Mario's New years party. Look, I don't know how to tell you this so that you'll finally understand, but we're not -"

"This girl's a real handful," a gruff voice that was definitely too deep to be Amy's interjected. "I don't envy you one bit, pal."

"Who are you?" Sonic squeezed a chilli dog so that the sweet hot juices were ejaculated directly into his hungry gaping gullet, with enough skill and practice under his belt that he did not miss a single drop. "If you're Amy's boyfriend I swear to God there's nothing going on between us. That insane bitch has been stalking me for years. "

The voice on the phone chuckled.

"I don't swing with humans, or whatever the heck this is. Just don't see the appeal. But your girl here, she's," the voice paused to mull over its next few words. "Lemme just say she's fallen on hard times, and looking pretty BONED right now. MARROWly avoided death, I'd say. Lucky for you I've seen one of these phone things before so I could tell you, seeing as yours is the only number here."

Sonic's eyes bulged and his quills stood erect as a thoroughly grilled hot dog. "What did you do to my girlfriend?"

The mysterious caller disconnected without answering, and could not be reached again. Sonic's impotent rage was replaced with fear, as well as regret over the way he had treated Amy. Somewhere, far away, President Obama glanced at a photograph of Sonic and Amy smiling together on his desk and briefly wondered where it all went wrong. In any case, despite the tumultuous seemingly one-sided nature of their relationship, let's say for the purpose of this story that Sonic the hedgehog's bland character design _did_ allow for him to begin to harbor deep feelings toward Amy. Perhaps not as a lover, but more like an annoying little sister.

Sonic had to act and he had to do so at the only rate he knew how – quickly – but first he needed to get a clue, and there was only one friend he could rely on in situations that required him to think.

Meanwhile, Amy's limp body lay at the bottom of a cavernous pit. Still alive, thanks to cartoon logic, but in a world of trouble as the skeleton in a hoody looking on had previously attested to on the phone. After he hung up on the mad mammal, Sans decided to scan through the contents of Amy Rose's media card, only to find unsightly fan art and candid photos of Sonic, and a music selection that was comprised mostly of Regina Spektor and Fiona Apple selections, which listening to the starts of a few only made his day that much worse.

"Maybe the neighborly thing to do would be to hide her someplace safe," Sans mused, stroking his fleshless chin, "but I'm beginning to wonder if she's even worth the trouble."

At least a phone could be wiped, he thought with a grin, and so he walked away with the pink Iphone plastered with flower stickers stuck in his pocket, leaving the unconscious Amy to fend for herself.


	3. Amy touched her Tits

Amy Rose awoke to a light tapping on her head that grew into a moderate thumping, then finally climaxed as one final, heavy slam on her thick skull, issued by an impatient white hoof of the gallant figure presiding over her.

"Please wake up, child," a gentle voice pleaded. "It isn't safe for outsiders to be here."

Amy was dazed, and her vision blurry. Partially from her fall, but also largely due to the repeated head trauma incurred by Toriel, whose white fur looked more blue and whose horns were identical to spikes in the severely love-struck head-struck teen. "Sonic, is that you?" She buried her face into Toriel's robes, stroking the plush fur underneath, without waiting for a confirmation. "Did you get that song I tried to send you? You know, the _Real Love_ cover?"

Toriel pushed her away softly, but it was clear that she was offended by the upfront gesture. "I promise you all the slices of snail pie in the Underground if you never touch me like that ever again."

In case you were wondering, it was at around this time that Miles "Tails" Prower the chronically obese fox leaned forward in his chair so that he could scratch his titanic two-tailed ass. From the comfort of an air-conditioned RV installed with radar tracking equipment and external protective laser-based security system of his own design, he was becoming suspicious of the growing degree of separation between the blue and red dots on the radar display, which indicated that Sonic and Knuckles were splitting off in two completely different directions. The RV was parked close enough to the entrance of the cavernous pit that Tails could keep an eye on things in a strictly superficial sense, and provide backup should the need arise and should he be able to muster enough energy to do so in his current sorry state of physical fitness.

Walky-talky in hand, he tried to reach them. "Guys, what the fuck is going on down there?"

Both of the explorers were incapacitated: Knuckle's own walky-talky was still fixed to his knapsack that was left on the shore of the underground river after he smoked one too many sand crystals and did a swan dive into the rushing water. Sonic, meanwhile, with his walky-talky attached firmly to his left shoe, was being ferried across a highway of web stretched across an ocean of lava by the spiders (as quickly as possible without putting the structural integrity of their catch at risk) while he was still under the affects of their powerful neurotoxins. Tails brushed it off as a minor change in strategy, though, and was about to go to the freezer for his third Philly Cheese Steak flavor Hot Pocket that day when a loud knocking came at the door of the RV.

Tails was not expecting any visitors to that remote location in the outer woodlands surrounding Central City, and certainly not the three he saw via the feed of the camera situated above the door. The black hedgehog among them snorted with laughter. "We're here to give you another wedgie, FAILS," he said, the specific insult harking back to Tails's horrible High School experience as a chubby nerd that still peed his bed from time to time, which showed not only in the awkward way he related to others but also in the actual, still present stench of piss that followed him everywhere. Today, however, he was determined to make a stand.

"Activate the security lasers," he commanded the security system A.I, hoping the RV's advanced anti-shithead technology would be enough to turn the confirmed shithead bullies away.

"Imma firin' ma lazor!" The interface declared non-ironically as a confirmation of the order, as Tails rubbed his hands together and cackled in maniacal merriment at the miraculous moment of magnificent comeuppance.


	4. Knuckles Appeases the Natives

Next thing the stoned Echidna knew, he had washed up unto another shore and there was a "hOI! i'm tEMMIE!" flying at him from all directions.

The cold, turbulent waters that lead him there did little to mend his killer high, as he was met by a pack of strange cat things with dog ears and human hair and striped shirts that babbled amongst themselves incoherently at the sight of him.

Bob the Temmie did not share in the excitement of her brethren, deigning instead to continue sorting through her bowl of Temmie Flakes at the latest impromptu Temmie picnic event happening nearby.

"Hey there little guys," Knuckles said woozily, greeting the cutey chimeras with pats on the head. "I'm Knuckles. Know any dealers in town I can pay in favors?"

The Temmies tugged on his wet cornrows with their mouth and jumped up and down to nibble at different parts of his body with their little teeth. None of this seemed to bother him until one came too close to grazing one particular tattoo of a large-breasted bat woman hybrid who featured prominently in his past, on his left forearm, which earned the innocent Temmie a swift backhand to the face.

"Keep your paws off the princess, little man!"

Bob had witnessed the act, and whereas her somewhat less enlightened contemporaries were moreso confused by the random violent act, she made a stand against the stranger.

"What makes you think you can just swim over here, disturb our picnic, and then PUNCH a Temmie?"

The other Temmies, who had gone to see if their wounded friend was okay, rallied behind her. With their claws and fangs bared they hissed and growled menacingly; transforming from cute and cuddly to razor sharp balls of fur with a thirst for blood in milliseconds.

"You aRE a BAD muscle dog!"

Knuckles realized he had fucked up. Strong as he was, he did not feel confident going into a fight against their overwhelming numbers – especially whilst still high – so he looked around for another solution. Luckily, the left pocket of his torn denim jeans had held on to what were to him the two most important items he elected to bring with him on the rescue mission, out of all the invaluable survival tools that were left behind in his knapsack.

"Hey, I know we got off to a bad start, but I can show you guys something rad."

All the Temmies watched curiously as he revealed the crack pipe and lighter. As he poured the water that had collected in the pipe he scanned the sand underfoot for more of the same crystals from earlier, and sure enough there were plenty, so he gathered enough to constitute a fix for him and each one of his new acquaintances. Bob rolled her eyes as she looked on; somewhat ashamed to be a member of the same species as her peers who were so easily distracted by such a simple trick.

"Any of you Temmies ever smoked crack before?" Knuckles said as he struggled to produce a flame with the wet lighter. "This is sorta like that but there's a little more flavor to it. Not as good as a chaos emerald shard, but hell these things are everywhere so I gotta give them extra points for convenience."


	5. Robot Girl and the Nice Meme

"Check out this dank ass meme, bae." Shadow show Rouge the screen of his sleek new android: there was a disgustingly low image resolution image of Spongebob Squarepants decorated with ineligible Ebonics and emoticons that managed to smile and cry at the same time.

"Nice one, bae," she lied, rolling her eyes. Not the first meme she had seen that day, nor would it be the last.

E-123 Omega, or simply "Meg" as she liked to be called ever since the operation to make him look more like the robot girls he had seen in all of his favorite Japanese Anime, suddenly pushed ahead of the two.

Shadow crossed his arms indignantly. "Are we gonna have to bust the door down?"

"Wait! The security measures have been activated." She put forward one mechanical arm, and the fingers separated into individual gun barrels. From her shoulders there emerged dual air cannons, laser-firing retinas in her eyes, a pair of detachable grenades loaded into her upper chest cavity, – causing her cup size to go up a grade or two – her long, flowing black hair sharpened into sword blades at the tips and the two slices of bread that had been toasting in her butt appliance for the past few minutes popped out, which Shadow snatched and proceeded to eat without so much as glancing up from the series of oddly placed political articles and occasional cat picture featured on the front page of the modern _I Can Haz Cheeseburger_.

"I will not allow any harm to come to my friends!" Meg declared bravely.

The camera aimed its laser sight and Meg inadvertently blocked the tiny beam it fired with her arm, causing it to deflect off into the grass to no effect. After this, the camera exploded due to overheating.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's just another one of Tails's shitty half-assed fucking lame inventions," Shadow said and kicked open the door, entering to find the fox attempting to squeeze into a closet. "Hey there, buddy! It's been a while."

Tails whipped a plasma gun out of the closet and with a quivering grip pointed it at Shadow.

"Get the fuck out of here, Shadow!" Tails said. For a second his eyes glazed over the sex-changed Omega and her admittedly impressive concealed grenade tits in vague recognition, and Shadow capitalized on it by lunging forward and seizing the firearm with incredible speed.

Shadow turned the gun on Tails; internally fighting back repressed memories of his horrible spin-off game as his finger lightly tasted the trigger. Rouge was filing her nails, and Meg was running an analysis on the inside of the RV: confirmed 10% dirty laundry, 2% Hot Pockets, 3% Cup Ramen, 10% advanced weapons technology, 68% anime, manga, or Big Bang Theory merchandise, and trace amounts of shame and dry semen.

"I'll get straight to the point. The missus and I are getting a little short on funds and saw that you and the other fags were out sniffing for chaos emeralds like the good old days, so we decided to swing by and collect our cut of the prize."

"Honest to God it's not like that," Tails said, sweat visibly cascading over the rolls of his double neck. "Amy went missing, and some weird guy called Sonic on her phone, so I traced the signal to somewhere in that cave but there's no telling what's down there, or even if Amy's still – "


	6. The Goat Mom's Plight

Amy Rose shrieked when she came face to face with an unsuspecting monster that looked like a frog only it was bigger and slightly more receptive to compliments, which had been minding its own business and didn't seem to care about the rude interaction as much as the always mindful Toriel did.

"Dear, you ought to apologize to that harmless Froggit. It didn't do anything wrong."

"Why should I?" Amy laughed coldly. "It's just an icky, stupid frog. Don't act like you're my mother when you're wearing something like _that_!"

Toriel made up a face similar to that of a sassy black woman who was just caught off guard by a mad diss. Even the Froggit in observance rolled its eyes and secretly wished it had a higher attack stat to put the pink bitch in her place.

"Don't you want to know where you are?" Toriel said, grasping for some similarities between this one and the many surface dwellers that had unfortunately stumbled into the underground before her. "Aren't you afraid of where you've ended up, child?"

"I don't care what this weird place is!" Amy snapped. "Besides, Sonic will be here to rescue me any minute now, so I might as well just sit here and wait." She took a seat on the smooth rock, next to the Froggit, glaring at the creature when it turned to face her and squeezed out a croak in staunch protest.

"By the way, my name's Amy, and if you mess with me you'll have to answer to my boyfriend."

Toriel's pure compassion was undeterred by the girl's threats.

"Take my word that it is not I you should be worried about. Rather, it is imperative that you know that not all the monsters that live beyond these catacombs are quite as hospitable toward outsiders as we are," she paused to pick up the Froggit, "and even if you don't trust me, and continue to insult me, threaten me, and push me away, I will still continue to do all I can to make your stay here as pleasant as possible."

Amy did not know how to respond. She had never before been so warmly received by anyone in her entire pathetic existence. Except Cream, who barely counted anyway, since she's only like four years old or something, no joke.

"Now then, since it's getting to be about time to take out the pie," Toriel said, with the serious expression she had previously worn already faded. "Since you would rather stay here and wait for your friend I'll go tend to that and be back in a few minutes to check on you."

"So after that big speech you're just gonna leave me here alone?"

"Oh, I would certainly never do that!" Toriel added after a laugh, "not entirely." Then she took from her pocket what Amy least expected to see – a cellphone – and motioned for her to take it. "Even though you're a big girl, it helps to be on the safe side."

"No, that's okay, I have my own..." That was when she found out her own cellphone was missing.

Meanwhile, Sans was slacking off from his guard duty in one of the many dog houses scattered across the Snowdin border, defiling the countless pictures Amy had saved on her phone of Sonic with comically large bones in place of sexual organs using the built-in Paint app.


	7. Never Meant to Touch the Sun

**Theme Music:** "Nothing's Gonna Hurt you Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex

Green Hill Zone was his oldest memory. Sonic, a greenhorn video game character whose existence was as up in the air as any other design at the time, was still eager to prove himself a worthy mascot of SEGA despite several grueling months of testing and debugging by the Sonic Team developers.

 _It only gets faster from here_ , Sonic's character was programmed to think, and so he set off once again, blast processing into eternity.

Sonic the hedgehog could feel the precise moment when the cheerful Green Hill Zone music had left him: cold, alone, wrapped in a spider silk cocoon stuck to a web deep underground, gradually regaining his senses as the poisons ran their course. The only source of light was an antique kerosene lamp on a faraway table, which suggested that the cavern he occupied was quite large. But there was no music here, nor a sympathetic game developer to guide him into the next scene. Only the glowing eyes of his captor, watching him from across the inescapable master web.

"Ahuhuhuhu...I've never eaten a monster like you before," the starved spider hissed, smacking her chelicerae in anticipation as she drew closer. "Oh, please don't squirm too much, or else I'll have my lovelies put you back to sleep and _that_ won't be any fun at all."

Darkness closed in, Sonic light dashed into another dream. This time, of him being the lead singer and bass guitarist of the often forgotten animated series Sonic Underground. It was as if he was a hedgehog rock star with different colored siblings that made a vow their mother would be found, who was queen of a magical land or some shit in the iron grip of a man sometimes referred to as 'Eggman' only days ago, even though it had been years since one of the stranger stints of his career came to a close.

"Bring it in slow, Manic," he told the green hedgehog that was playing the drums, and nodded to Sonia whose instrument of choice by the stoned writers was the keyboard, to lead him into his solo.

Among the crowds of animal-people swaying back and forth to the steady beat, one caught his eye. Amy Rose cast him a sensual look when their eyes met, then proceeded to lift her band t-shirt over her head to reveal a _cluster of spiders_!

Sonic dropped his laser-shooting guitar that materializes from a medallion and bolted off the stage.

"Gotta go fast," he said with a crazed look in his eyes. Suddenly, the scenery began to rapidly shift: to different stages from all the standard games, a boxing match against a bear in Sonic the Fighters, a string of terrible racing games not worth naming specifically, competing at the Olympics, Smash Bros. Brawl, a SEGA-produced unreleased city simulator, even the Sonic Dreams collection and every fan game and fan fiction ever made, whether it be cynical or earnest, they all provided him temporary respite. Run as he might, though, he could never elude the thought of Amy, like a permanent malfunction in his manufactured persona.

For the finishing stretch, Sonic ran so fast that he transcended all life as we know it. On a plane of existence too way past cool for mortal comprehension, he held Amy in his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered into the space where her ear might be, as merely an outline of the physical body he had once occupied formed of subatomic particles that vibrated at speeds faster than the whims of the almighty can grace the Earth.

Muffet sipped the last ounce of life out of him and leaned back in her web to contemplate the flavor. "Tastes like beans and motor oil," she declared, and giggled at the dry husk's last formed tear.


	8. An Unexpected Pair

In case you were wondering, Temmies and hard stimulants (the sand crystal fumes possessed a noticeable kick) do not a calm and controlled environment make.

"temmIE no feel so good," one said before a surge of vomit spewed forth. Another experimented with using Temmie Flakes in place of the crystals and after one whiff of the resulting pink clouds of smoke she became unwilling to share the pipe with the next Temmie in line, so they all started chasing her.

"I hope you're happy," Bob said to Knuckles, who was shirtless and gargling the murky and likely parasite infested waters streaming down from one of the Waterfall region's famous waterfalls. "Your smoke machine ruined our picnic." She watched a cherry Bisickle melt in the sand with a deep sense of longing and a tinge of righteous fury.

Knuckles spat out a mouthful of the polluted water, realizing his mistake via something sizable and crunchy getting caught between two of his teeth. "Why don't you talk the same way the other mutated cat things do?"

"English major at Underground U," Bob replied, sticking her nose up proudly whilst perched atop a craggy rock that let her loom taller than the souped up enchilada by a decisive bit. "Straight-As, at the top of my class, with full honors."

Knuckles smirked like a greasy drug dealer. "And yet you still live in a subterranean cave?"

"Color me impressed that there's a five syllable word in your vocabulary, but I'm guessing you're not from around these parts."

As the other Temmies closed in on the one that was fiendishly bogarding their shit, Bob tore Knuckles away from adoring his own dripping wet pectoral muscles long enough to give him a crash course in monster history. Once upon a time, she explained, monsters and humans lived as one on the surface. Then one day, "for whatever reason," seven powerful sorcerers sealed all of monster kind underground with a magic barrier through which anyone could enter but none could leave; with special emphasis on the _none could leave_ part, but Knuckles remained seemingly oblivious to the severity of his own predicament.

"I don't know what you're supposed to be, though," she said of Knuckles with a concerned look, as he whipped his cornrow braids back and forth in the flow of the waterfall.

"The name's Knuckles for starters, babe." The crack pipe rolled away from the scuffle between the Temmies and he picked it up before they could notice. "If you and your college degree can lend me a hand in finding someone, I promise you'll never see my sorry hide around your picnics ever again."

Bob rolled her eyes. "Call me Bob. Try not to annoy me and I'll see what I can do to help."

"You're the boss, Bob. Is that short for Bobita or something?"

Bob groaned, already liking what Sonic Boom did to Knuckles's character about as much as I do. Seriously, it's impossible for someone to be _that_ stupid unless they have a legit mental condition...which, well...now I find myself completely rethinking Knuckles.

Meanwhile, Burgerpants was on his third round of buffing the banana to the lovely female co-hosts of the Mettaton Morning variety show, with an old classic thin and crispy drooping from his drooling mouth, when he was startled by an urgent knock at the door of his posh hotel room.


	9. The Ballad of Burgerpants

"I've been looking everywhere for you, son!"

A hulking, shaggy coated beast sprung forward immediately to hug Burgerpants when he answered the door, and the jaded fast food server let out a deflated sigh as though he were a balloon with the air being squeezed out of it. A monster with a blue jay's head and otherwise human appearance with a leg warmer strapped around its neck like a scarf looked on expectantly, holding up dual thumbs up signals from the sidelines.

"I'm willing to bet my crippling depression that you ain't my pops," Burgerpants said, and promptly pushed away from the paternal poser. "Rocket! Stop bringing every homeless guy in the Underworld that says he's my dad to my door or – holy!"

Burgerpants was cut off when, all of a sudden, the shaggy monster started to relieve its bowels all over his coveted " _Welcome...or Not_!" mat he received as an ironic birthday present a few years back; basking the first two words in a viscous brown liquid with the approximate consistency of chunky chili sauce.

"It's the gunk...they give us at the...shelter, man," shaggy monster tried to explain amid constipated groans, but the owner of the mat that was just permanently defiled was too busy holding back the urge to puke to hear it, as the foul surge of sewage continued.

Burgerpants reminded Rocket of this incident when he showed up at his door that morning claiming to have found "the one" yet again. They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, the former mulling over the letter and a photograph – of a timidly smiling orange monster with large blank, expressionless eyes, and whose lips were slathered with rose pink lip balm – that originally prompted the search for his long lost parents, while the latter helped himself to a bowl of assorted bird seeds Burgerpants kept stashed in a cupboard just for his sake.

"I mean, you're a great friend for doing this, but," he takes a particularly long draw from his cigarette, "even if we did find my parents, they would probably just disown a piece of trash like me."

The confusing words of the letter never left his head, like the lyrics of Metaton's latest hit single, or ideas for his own next humorously cynical catchphrase:

 _"In my restless dreams,_ _I see that town._ _Silent Hell._ _I promised you I'd take you_ _there again someday._ _But I never did._ _Well, I'm alone there now..._ _In our 'special place'..._ _Waiting for you..."_

What stuck out the most about the letter was that it was addressed to his real name, which not a soul in all of the underworld called him since **that fateful day**. Truth be told, it made him feel a little warm and tingly inside. Quite a treat to find in his usually empty mailbox on his twentieth birthday, on which he received not even an ironic gift, but could vaguely recall being knocked out by a customer at the Burger Emporium over a dispute about unwanted pickles that same day, if that counts.

"Silent Hell," Burgerpants considered aloud. "Could she be referring to my life?"

Rocket, after cracking down on two sunflower seeds, chirped a suggestion.

"An abstract representation of my internal anguish manifested by ambient external dark forces? What exactly d'ya mean by that, birdbrain?"


	10. Chris is on the Case

Chris Thorndyke was streaming a rousing game of Counter-Strike: Global Offensive in his mom's basement when he sensed that trouble was brewing.

"No,it can't be!" he said, jumping out of his mustard and ketchup stained comfortable leather recliner. "Sonic's power level is...!"

Faster than his stream viewers could begin to upload this sudden weird outburst to Youtube, the man child began rummaging through the messy state of his dark, dim dwelling place to gather his travel gear: a fedora, a Steven Seagal autographed katana (maybe), a backpack filled to the brim with individual canisters of Gamer Grub and cans of Monster energy drinks (staples of his diet despite his lean build), a TSM fanboy jacket even though it was seventy degrees outside because it was imperative that he still 'represent', a framed photograph of a 7/10 girl he once talked to online, and his Nintendo 3DS with a Pokemon Y cartridge loaded into it (should any trainers dare to challenge him and his shameless all-legendaries team, along the way).

Chris's mom asked him where he was going so he responded with a firm "wherever the fuck I want", and because she was so proud of him actually leaving the house for a change she didn't press the point, but insisted he take the trash out while he was at it. So, Chris begrudgingly rolled the trash can out to the road whilst pondering what he would say if any cops caught him out in public with his katana again, as well as what grand perils awaited him on his valiant quest should he successfully manage to procure a ride.

This final thought only struck him as he made it to the end of the road, and his subsequent apprehension about talking to strangers left him with but one clear choice as was initiated by his next line of dialogue:

"Yo, mom! Can you get your fat ass up and give me a ride up to Sonic's house?"

Ms. Thorndyke was more than happy to oblige Christopher's unusual desire to play with Mr. Sonic, so they drove to the Green Hill Zone only stopping for burgers along the way. Although Ms. Thorndyke wanted to believe that they were spending quality together this way, Chris was buried too deep in the goings-on of his internet life and a greasy Big Mac that he barely seemed to notice her. It made her think of the beautiful baby boy she once held in her arms, and where she might have went wrong as a parent in the years since then. Was it the divorce? Is technology to blame? Or, should she have been more strict during his formative years?

Sorry about that, I'm in a bit of blue mood right now as I'm writing this.

In any case, Chris made it to Sonic's humble abode and as he entered with his mom waiting behind in the car, at first nothing seemed to be out of place. At the center of the living room there was a glass display cupboard wherein Sonic kept various mementos: his smash trophies, framed fan submitted drawings from the '90s (the age of innocence), and limited edition production copies of his shitty library of games. Chris gave it one quick look-over, and from that look alone he obtained an important clue.

"You're wasting your time," he said, not directed at you but at the shape of rippling air currents that he had noticed hiding in the corner above a sizable mound of dirty, giant red running shoes when he first walked in. "Sonic's chaos emerald shard is gone, so that must mean he's on an important mission somewhere, but even I don't know what that could entail."

Espio the chameleon detective's camouflage dissipated. He looked pissed, as usual. "The other two went missing as well, and Amy still hasn't been found since she disappeared two days ago."

"What do you say we join-"

Chris Thorndyke's mom repeatedly honked the minivan's horn, but it did little to disparage the oncoming beast's advance.


End file.
